Using the Gift
by KittenofShadows
Summary: Raised in the Castle of Ilian, Eth has been sheltered all her life. When a strange magical gift passes to her from her late father, she must blind herself to protect those she loves. However, others in the Kingdom may have other plans for the child.
1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note: Although some characters from my previous series will appear in this story, it isn't necessary to have read them – they play only a minor part. Hearts, KittenofShadows**

If there was ever a day of life at the Castle of Ilian that was quiet, today was not that day. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to go, something to do, someplace that they needed to be with all haste. The normal hustle and bustle was amplified a hundredfold. Each maid scurried about, dusting, sweeping, scouring every surface for a speck of grime. The cook, too, made himself busy, preparing dish after dish and course after course.

All the commotion was centered around two people. Two people who had never done anything spectacular, nor anything worth celebrating.

All they had done was live to see the dawn of their fifteenth birthday.

The sun had risen that morning, as it usually did on most mornings, on a kingdom, stretched beneath it like a map. It shed its sweet golden rays from the farms, to the mountains, to the cities below. It was not a spectacular sunrise – no more spectacular than any other, in any case – and it was soon forgotten, as each before it.

A pair of the palest of blue eyes had been watching, watching that sunrise, a heart fluttering nervously beneath smooth white skinned chest. Hair – the color of elf gold, spun so finely it was almost white – was pulled tight and fastened at the nape of a slender neck with twine. The rest hung down a thin back, curling slightly at the ends.

The girl had yawned, slightly, at the sight of the sunrise – she was not usually up so very early – but today, of course, was special. She had stripped quickly, casting aside the nightclothes she wore and pulling a simple dress over her head. She knew she would not wear it for long – she had seen the rich fabrics the seamstresses had shown her mother proudly. A dress of that would be a fine one indeed.

But finery was ill-suited for morning chores.

Her eyes flicked to the other occupant of the room. The child was curled in her blankets still, eyes closed. The blonde girl laid a hand on her cheek, feeling how cool and smooth her skin was.

Kissing the child gently on the cheek, the girl left had left.

She had padded softly in stocking-feet through the castle. It had been her home for a long time. She had been born here, raised here. People she loved had lived and died here. It was a home for her as assuredly as a den is home for a fox, or a nest for the mighty eagle.

Her hands had trailed along the walls, the cold stone on her fingertips.She could feel the age in the stone, feel the lives of those before her. The magic that ran through her veins as much as blood allowed it to be so, allowed her to be in touch in a deeper level. She leaned against the stone for a moment, let her head rest on it, and let a smile grace her lips, for she was home.

She had no idea how quickly that would change.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lady Rune was a queen of the people. Everything about her, from the way she smiled – as if she had a secret, and was just waiting to tell you – to the way her voice was strong yet soft, made you want to be her friend. She could ease a grin out of the sullenest of farmers, and servants and housewives alike confided in her as sisters.

The people loved her, and she, in turn, loved them. She was a queen not by blood or by marriage, but by manner.

Today she paced in the throne room, quietly, her heavy skirts hiding her bare feet from view. She was young, in her early thirties, with lively green eyes and a head of red hair. Today her hair had been tamed into a braid, which hung between her shoulder blades.

"They should be here, Caitlin" she said, as much to the woman who stood near as to herself. "He is late."

"It isn't unusual," Caitlin soothed. "They are quite always late."

Rune sighed and nodded, but her hands didn't stop wringing worriedly. "Something may have happened on their journey," she fretted.

"Nothing could have. This is a time of peace. They are probably coming as we speak."

But Rune could tell Caitlin was as worried as she was.

"Mother!"

Rune turned to the sound of the voice. In the doorway, a boy stood. His brown hair fell haphazardly over his eyes, and his tunic was rumpled. He blew the hair away from his brown eyes, somewhat impatiently, and strode towards his mother.

She kissed his forehead, and he blushed – for he was no longer a child. He was taller than she now. She let go of him. The woman was tempted to lick her fingers and straighten his hair, but she held back. It would embarrass him.

"Is David here yet?" he asked.

Both women shook their heads.

"Find your sisters, Leon," Rune told him. "They should be here soon, with any luck."

The boy nodded and turned, beginning to walk away.

Leon strode purposefully away, slowly, confidently, until he rounded the corner. Then he broke into a run. He would never have let Lady Caitlin or Mother see him acting so undignified, but he was not too old to dart through the halls as he used to.

_Luné! _He called out with his mind. _Where are you?_

There was no response in words from his twin, but an image of the gardens flashed into his mind. The boy turned a corner and almost ran headlong into Lady Lily. The woman let out a little yelp of surprise.

As always, Lily was dazzling. Her clear eyes had a wet, wide innocence, like a kitten. She smiled at him, giving a little curtsy. "Leon," she said, with a teasing soft of smile. "You ought to be more careful."

"Yes, Aunt Lily," he muttered, looking at the ground. It was hard to look at Lily for a long time – her beauty was almost painful.

"And where do you have to get in such a hurry?" She asked, playfully easing his eyes to hers with the tip of a long, slender finger. He met them hesitantly, face turning a shade of pink.

"N-nowhere, my lady."

"If it was no where at all, you would not have been running." But Lily was laughing. She waved him away. "Be on your way, nephew. Happy fifteenth year, by and by."

With that she was gone as quickly as she had appeared. Leon was grateful. Lily was his father's brother's wife and mate, but she had always made him a trifle nervous.

He continued along, slower now, careful not to run into anyone. His boots echoed emptily in the vacant hall. Unlike his sister, he could not sense the lives that had come and passed here, he could sense nothing but the beating of his own heart, the ticking of his own thoughts.

He reached the gardens easily – all the castle's exits lead to them. The real problem would be finding his sisters, for they could be anywhere. Luckily, they were obliging, and he found them at Luné's favorite fountain. It was always the first place he looked.

Luné heard him coming, and turned to him. Her eyes met his, and she smiled. He loved her smile, so simple and open, yet somehow mysterious. She mystified him, make him want to scream and claw his eyes out, yet her loved her. She was annoying, stubborn, stupid, but the smartest, sweetest person he knew.

"Leon," she greeted, eyes flashing. "You hardly look ready for a banquet in your honor."

Leon laughed nervously, glancing down at himself. She was right, he looked no different than he did any day. His tunic was slightly dirty, and crumpled. He took her hand and kissed it gently. "You look lovely, sister."

"Of course I do," she sniffed. Then she laughed, to show she was kidding. But he could tell, she was at least partially serious.

It was then that Leon became aware of the other girl who sat at the fountain. Her hair was short and coarse and black, like a horse's, and hung over her eyes. That was a relief – those eyes unnerved Leon. They reminded him that although she was his mother's daughter, she was not his sister. She had a small, pale face, which looked too solemn for her thirteen years. Her lips, which remained daintily closed most of the time, and only ever opened to say something that seemed serious and queer coming from someone her age.

"Eragon will be here soon, Eth," he told her. "Mother wants us in the entrance Hall."

Eth nodded, flicking her hair away from her eyes. They burned into Leon, and he turned away with a choking sound. She pressed her lips tightly together, and looked at the ground.

Her hands fluttered nervously. "Luné," she said, "Let us go greet them."

When they reached the main entrance hall, the twins' father was still nowhere in sight. Rune was still pacing. She caught sight of the girls and smiled, fanning herself with her hand.

Eth swallowed nervously, curtsying slightly to her mother, then to Caitlin.

"You've cut your hair again," Rune sighed, touching Eth's head. "You look so like him when you keep it like that. I wish you wouldn't."

Eth swelled with pride at being deemed worthy to look like 'him'. She knew her mother saw it as a flaw – reminder of Eth's father was painful for her, at best, agonizing at worst – but she could never quite bring herself to care.

Rune kissed her daughter on the forehead, then embraced Luné. "You look beautiful," she said, smiling. "You both do."

"That they do!"

The voice made Eth start. It was a loud, strong voice, with some coarseness in it, but much kindness too. She shrank away, without seeming to.

Rune stifled a joyful call, running into the arms of its owner. "Eragon!"

The man spun her around, lifting her up, laughing. When he lowered her, she promptly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

If there was one thing that the kingdom found flaw with in Lady Rune, it was she and Eragon. The affair between the Rider and his lady had lasted for years – Luné and Leon themselves were testimony to that. But the lovers always found some excuse not to marry. Everyone quite wished they would settle down, commit, but neither seemed to want anything of the sort. They were content to live as husband and wife in all but law – sharing chores and bed pleasures, secrets and worries. They could have married, certainly. But they chose not to.

Some close to them thought perhaps the reason they chose not to be bound was Eth's father. The man – boy, more like – had died just over fourteen years prior. The story was sung about in countless ballads– how the mighty Shadow had slain the dark King and gave his life forfeit – but Rune had never seemed to quite recover from her love for him.

When Rune pulled her lips from Eragon's, he grinned. He kissed her firmly again, as if to finalize it, and let her go. They still acted like children around one another, flirting shamelessly and indulging in public displays of affection.

"Luné! Leon! Greet me."

His children did not need any command. They ran to his outstretched arms, hugging him tightly.

Eth followed, a bit more slowly. She did not hug him. Her hands were sweating. The father of the twins always made her nervous. It was not that he held any bitterness towards her for being the fruitage of a love affair between his Lady and another – indeed he and her father had been as close to brothers as any can be without blood. Eragon was quite willing to accept Eth as his own daughter, would she accept him likewise. But she was reluctant to do such.

Leon was the first to pull away from the hug. He stood tall. He was fifteen now, after all. A man. Hugs were silly.

Eragon kissed Luné on the cheek, before letting her go as well. He shooed her into line next to Leon.

"Let me have a look at the two of you."

Eragon's eyes flicked over the both of them. He took in all the changes that had occurred in the two months he had been gone at the Rider outpost in Melian.

"You've grown another inch, Leon. You'll have to stop soon or you'll be taller than me."

At finishing inspecting his children, Eragon turned his eyes to Eth. She bit her lip and stared at the ground.

"You look like your father more and more every time I see you," he said. He bent to kiss her hand. "You've cut your hair like him too. It looks fabulous."

Eth smiled slightly. She blinked.

"He used to give me a look just like that," Eragon laughed. "So positively devious. I'd hate to know what's going on in that mind of yours."

Eragon stood, and grinned at his children. "I've brought presents for your special day," he told them. "You'll find them in your rooms."

Luné and Leon glanced at one another. Eragon always brought them presents – the best of presents.

Eth's fingers were in knots with the front of her dress. She was very nervous.

Eragon's gaze touched her, and she drew away hesitantly.

"I haven't forgotten you, either," he told her. "There's something for you in your chambers as well."

"Th-thank you, sir."

Eragon's presence was the only thing that could make Eth stutter.

He smiled. "Now be gone, the three of you," he said with a smile. "There's only an hour until the guests start to arrive, and I expect to spend it in the sweet company of your mother. Preferably alone and in our chambers."

Luné and Leon groaned. "Contain yourselves until we leave!" they cried as one, before rushing out the door. Eth glanced at Rune, and quiet Caitlin who still stood behind her, before following them, quietly.

When they rounded the corner, Eth breathed a sigh of relief. Eragon's eyes burned in her mind, and it was all she could do not to give a little sob of desperation as she followed the twins.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Leon was firstborn – he had an additional four minutes of experience on his shoulders than Luné had upon hers – and so it was he who entered the Courtyard in view of all of the guests first.

_He cleans up rather nicely_, Eragon said to Saphira, proudly.

_He is your son,_ Saphira laughed in his mind. _See how tall he stands? Like a little prince._

_Not so little,_ Eragon said with a smile. Saphira laughed, and glanced across the Courtyard, at her own child. The white dragon Topaz stood tall and handsome, her scales glinting in the rising moon. The sky above still sparkled blue, but the sun was setting the dusk beginning to rise with its fall.

Luné entered after her brother, a flourish of silver and blue. She blinked at Leon, and he offered her his arm. With grace, she accepted, and the twins walked towards the table that had been set together.

Behind them, followed Eth. She was quiet, as she entered, silent, sneaking. The guests barely noticed her, and she was quite content to leave it that way. She was a precocious little creature, and her wide eyes took in the guests quietly. She could feel something funny about them. There were too many.

What could the feeling mean? Eth was not fond of crowds – she was delicately built and got pains from being jostled – but that was not all. She could not understand just how there were too many. It was as if there were more than expected.

The little girl dismissed the thought. Soldiers, she supposed, did their duty whether they liked it or not. Even the bravest may not have felt so very comfortable, going into battle. It was expected of her to be here, and so be here she would, until she could plead it past her bedtime and leave the rowdy company.

Almost as soon as she had quieted her mind to the uncomfortable factors of it all, she found Freoh at her arm. The boy smiled quietly at her, his green eyes dancing. With her on his arm, he walked back to the table, and sat her down quietly, before sitting next to her.

Three years her elder, Eth thought of Freoh as a good deal more of a brother than Leon. He was her father's half brother, truly, but the two were close, and thought fondly of one another. They had long since agreed that they were to be cousins.

Rune glanced at her daughter, sitting quietly. She worried for the girl, at times, for she seemed not to care for company her own age. More often than not she could be found in the library, conversing with one of the elf mages on the properties that allowed birds to fly, or the way wind-currents flowed over a moor.

"Eth," she said, softly, for fear of embarrassing her, "there is a seat for you at Luné's table, with her friends. Audrey is there."

Eth bit her lip. She liked Audrey fine, she was sweet and somewhat bright, and the two were the same age but for a week or two. But the other girl never seemed to think of anything worthwhile. Boys and dresses and who shot which buck, but such things hardly amounted to much.

Nonetheless, the girl nodded, and stood. Freoh kissed her hand fondly, and the child walked carefully to Luné's table.

Luné glanced up at her from laughing with her friends. "Oh," she said, blinking her eyes. "Eth. Do sit."

If Luné was a stunning beauty, Eth was nothing special. She strongly believed herself to be ugly. She did not have Luné's girlish figure, nor her fair, pale hair that was so like elven gold. Her own hair, by contrast, was heavy and did what it wanted. It was rather like raven-feathers, windblown and messy.

Eth sat next to her sister, still chewing on her lip. She kept her eyes shaded and down-cast.

Draumira – who was Luné and Leon's cousin – looked at Eth from over her slender nose. She sniffed disdainfully, then seemed to forget about the little girl entirely.

"Look!" one of the girls cooed, glancing over at the table where Leon had his friends. "Isn't that Elleran of Surda?"

Luné fluttered her eyelashes with contempt. "That oaf?" she snorted. "He'll be stone cold drunk in an hour."

"But he's _so dreamy_," another giggled.

"Only until he opens his mouth," Luné growled. As the birthday-girl, Luné's word was law. The girls nodded obediently, like trained dogs.

Eth glanced at the boy's table, where her half brother sat and laughed merrily with his friends. Freoh had joined them, and was laughing along. He looked so very handsome when he laughed, Eth noticed, before glancing at Luné. The girl's eyes were fixed on the boy, and from the dangerous light in her eyes, Eth knew what she was thinking about.

Freoh met Eth's eyes and smiled. He motioned for her to join him. The girl blinked.

Luné's eyes narrowed. She was a girl who was quick to love, quicker to hate, and Eth cringed at the thought of being on her bad side. Being invited to sit by Freoh – related as they may have been – could very well make the light shine that way.

Luné sniffed, and dismissed her with a hand, before returning to the mindless chatter with her ladies.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

A pair of plain, unintelligent blue eyes watched from the shadows. They glimmered, a bit, with an animal emotion describable only as bloodlust. A smile flicked on pale, thin lips.

"Tonight," a voice snaked from between those lips, "is the night we move."


	2. A Dangerous Burn

Eth sat quietly at Freoh's side, her eyes buried in her lap. She didn't look up at the boys who were laughing and talking around her, because people didn't like it when she met their eyes with her own. It even made Leon squirm uncomfortably, and he had lived with it for fifteen years.

Besides, she had nothing to say to them.

Freoh touched her leg comfortingly under the table, his fingers soft on her dress. He squeezed reassuringly. Eth felt a little better – she was not entirely alone here. Freoh's brotherly touch always had that affect on her – he always knew exactly what to do.

"What do you think, Eth?"

Leon's voice startled her, causing her to jump. She tilted her face towards him, but kept her burning eyes downward. She hadn't been paying attention to what was being discussed.

"I…" she began, softly. "…think a great many things, Leon. But I'm afraid I wasn't listening." She blinked, and braved glancing into his eyes. He clenched his teeth, swallowing. She could almost see his thoughts, telling her to look away. She did. "I'm very sorry," she said.

The display made the boys around chuckle, half with nervousness, and half at the idea that the delicate, pathetic little creature could make Leon – who was somewhat clumsy, but brave as the lion he was named for and quite strong – so awkward and jumpy.

Elleran of Surda chuckled. "It's for the best," he laughed, somewhat viciously. "I don't see why you even asked her, Leon. Who cares what girls think, in any case? She's hardly ten."

Freoh's eyes – which were so like Eth's, except in their color – flicked dangerously to Elleran's face. "Lady Eth is thirteen," he said. There was venom in his voice, and for a moment he reminded all the boys of the statue in the courtyard of his elder brother – dangerous, strong, wise, and vengeful. "And you'd best address her as you would an equal. Eragon doesn't take kindly to disrespecting authority."

The name worked to subdue Elleran. He glanced at his lap. "Well, it's true," he mumbled, somewhat sheepishly. "Girls aren't good for much, other than –"

Eth stopped listening, feeling tears prick at her eyes. _Suppose I'm a warrior, _she told herself. _Just suppose. Suppose I'm sitting at the table of my enemy. I cannot cry. I mustn't._ But she was only a child. The tears stung, made her throat ache. They threatened to streak her cheeks. She could feel her nose turning red, and knew her eyes were puffy.

Freoh cleared his throat, and Elleran fell entirely silent.

The boy touched Eth's leg again, squeezing harder than ever. It hurt, it was so hard, but Eth was glad. The touch was comforting, and the hurt reminded her of where she was.

She fixed the image of herself as a warrior in her mind. Freoh always loved to hear about the things she pretended, and she knew later that night he would ask. She drew a bit of strength from the memory of the subtle ritual, added with the pretending about the warrior, enough to look up into Elleran's eyes.

The boy jerked, as her eyes – her father's eyes – glared into his own. He shivered involuntarily, seeing the queer, deep, strange knowledge that flickered in them. Eth blinked slowly, not taking her eyes from his.

"I'm afraid I have to be going to bed," she said, still looking at him. "I _am_ only thirteen."

She bent and kissed Freoh's cheek, like a child kissing a father goodnight, and he turned to kiss her back.

"Sleep sweet," he told her, for she was not a little girl to be embarrassed by such things.

If they had lived in their parent's time, the traditional good-night wish would be to "dream of freedom". But neither would have had any idea what this would mean.

Eth curtsied slightly, and left. Only when they could not see her did she let herself run.

oooooooooooooo

Tears, for a little girl who views the world through serious little eyes, can often be considered a failure. So did Eth view them, as she sat with her head in her hands. Above her, Súndavar sat tall on Slate the dragon. But none of her father's power and fame seemed to help her now.

Eth was not in the habit of feeling sorry for herself. She had everything she wanted – a home and family, books, plus dolls and frilly things and a warm soft bed. It was more than enough for her.

But she hated the feeling of being disliked. She really had not done anything to anyone – she tried to be pleasant and act like a lady. It wasn't her fault that most people didn't bother with her.

Sometimes she supposed it was because of her father. If he had been alive, things would be so very different. He would hug her and hold her and talk to her, like Eragon used to when Luné woke from a particularly frightening magic-induced nightmare. He would teach her things, things like riding horses with one leg on either side, shooting an arrow. Persephone would still be his, rather than Rider David's.

Perhaps she wouldn't be so frail, if she had a father to help her along. She wouldn't get sick as much, or dislike crowds and people and being jostled.

Perhaps she would be stronger.

There would be someone to listen to the curious little things she said, someone who was just like her. There would be someone who would look into her eyes and see her, rather than just seeing how awful they were.

She looked up through her tears, at the statue above. When she was little, she used to climb up next to him, curl against his chest. When she needed to pretend particularly hard, she would still sometimes crawl up there, sit in the saddle, and close her eyes. Sometimes she swore to Freoh she could feel the wind in her face, feel the great dragon's body moving underneath her.

"Dry your tears."

Eth looked up quickly. Her breath caught.

It was always a surprise to see Elva. The girl seemed so very old to Eth, although she couldn't have been more than eighteen, certainly. She had an agelessness about her, a pretty flowing sort of thing that made everyone listen to whatever she had to say.

The girl was tall, and slender, with fair skin that shone like silver. Eth loved the way she looked, so eternal and elegant. Like a rainfall.

Elva came to sit next to her. She met Eth's eyes gently.

Eth didn't understand Elva's eyes. People didn't shrink away from them, or flinch when they saw the bright violet color. They seemed so to suit Elva's pretty elven features, people scarcely seemed to think twice about them. If only Eth's own eyes were that way.

"Do not be upset at yourself for them not understanding," Elva told her quietly. Her eyes still stared into Eth's. This was the longest gaze of hers anyone had ever held. Eth felt compelled to pull away from it first.

The child stared at the ground once more. "I am not," she said. "I only wish –"

"Only wishing never got anyone anywhere," Elva said. "Only wishing is only wishing."

Eth glanced at her. The words made a strange sort of sense in the child's mind. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully.

Elva stood up. With a grace and elegance that surpassed Eth's mind, she walked to one of the rose bushes.

The rose bushes were old, so very old that Eth couldn't remember a time when they had not been there. She had always liked them – though not loved them, because they were her mother's and she really had no right to love them – even though they had thorns and some of them grew black rather than rosy red.

Elva picked one of the blossoms delicately. It was black. She returned to Eth's side.

"They are in the roses," she said, handing her the little thorny thing. Eth's eyes flew to her father's face, above her. "Their ashes were scattered among them. He is the black ones. Slate is the red ones."

Eth held the little blossom in her hand. The petals were soft, like Luné's silk sheets.

"Eth?"

Freoh's voice met Eth's ears, and she started. The rose fell to the floor. Elva looked in the direction the voice came from, and got up.

When Freoh came into sight, the elder girl was gone, whisking away like the rainfall she was. But her aura still hung in the air, and the light perfume she wore made Freoh blink.

"Did she say comforting things, or confusing ones?" he asked. To him, Elva was too baffling to trifle with. Freoh was content to let Eth deal with the spectral girl, and never bothered trying to decipher what her sayings meant.

"Perhaps a bit of both," Eth admitted quietly. Her tears had long since stilled, and she was glad.

Freoh nodded. He picked up the rose at her feet. "You know something?"

"Several things. Which thing might you be talking about?" Eth asked.

"I was just thinking. Roses are to be pitied."

"How so?"

"In the prime of their lives, they are murdered, and then their corpses are displayed as signs of affection. It seems a bit cruel, doesn't it?"

"I have never thought of it that way," Eth confessed. "But now I shall. I think if anyone ever gave me a rose – which isn't likely as no one likes me very much besides you and Ieran – I should see him in quite a different light than he intended."

Freoh laughed, and kissed her forehead. "You are such a strange little creature," he told her. "I love you very much."

Eth smiled, and hugged him.

It was at this time that she became aware of a certain thing. What it was, she could not tell. It seemed almost as though a pair of eyes – two, at that – were upon her, but she could not see them.

"Freoh," she said. "I do believe we are being watched. Suppose it's one of Leon's friends, playing tricks?"

"It isn't one of Leon's friends."

The voice was a new one, and Eth jumped. It came from behind her. She turned, but the statue of Shadow and Slate barred her vision.

A hand clasped hers, and she nearly screamed, but for the fact that another hand covered her mouth. She heard Freoh grunt, and felt his warmth be torn away from her.

Now she knew what the feeling had meant, the feeling when she had first entered. There were too many people – people had come who had not supposed to.

This assumption was assumed in but a fraction of a second, for in the next, Eth found herself eye-to-eye with a grizzled face. The eyes in it were blue, and animalish, and stupid.

Something quite unexpected happened.

Rather than whatever was supposed to have happened, the man cried out. Eth felt a strange tingling, in her eyes, and in her fingers, and perhaps in her chest as well. The man's grip loosened, and she jerked away. His eyes remained on hers.

There was a sort of power, in the locking of their gazes. Her eyes burned into his own, so terribly, and neither he nor she was able to look away.

Eth wanted to scream, because now the gaze hurt her, but she found herself quite unable to do so. Her heart was beating, very fast beneath her dress. There was power, so much power, all in her eyes, and she found that she hated it. She wanted to be rid of it, wanted it to leave and stop the burning.

It was a strange type of magic, and it hurt. It was angry, because she was angry. How dare he touch her? How dare he? What did he want? Why?

In her mind, a new, wild sort of rage and hate blossomed. It frightened Eth, made her want to push it away. For it wasn't her. She, she herself, could not hate so much. Could she?

She hated him. The hate burned, and her eyes burned, and the man screamed.

And then the man was dead.


	3. A Missing Friend

**Author's Note: I'm SO sorry this has taken forever. :( Summer, you know. Hopefulling during the school year I'll be a good deal more able to update quicker. Hearts to all, Kittie**

The cloaked figure paced angrily.

"Dead?"

The man before the figure nodded, bowing low. "It cannot be explained," he said, with fear. "He met the child's eyes – naught more."

"And his body?"

"I left it."

The figure clenched its hands beneath the dark cloak that encircled it. It continued to pace, more angry than before. "Then the child must not be trifled with again," it said. "We'll secure her in another way."

"Lord Or—"

"Hush!" the figure's hand shot out, grasped the man's throat tightly. "The boy. You mentioned a boy, whom she was fond of."

"She called him Freoh," the man wheezed.

The figure let its hand drop. "Freoh. Death."

"Is it an omen?"

Beneath its hood, the figure sighed. "We will wait. And we will see."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"It was in my eyes," Eth said. "And in my chest."

She glanced at Freoh with eyes that looked dead. "He is dead, isn't he? Really dead?"

The boy nodded. "Yes. He is dead."

Eth was silent again. She pulled her knees up to her chest and began to slowly rock, back and forth, back and forth. Lady Rune opened a small music box, and a comforting melody began to play. It was a ballad to Shadow, and although there were no words, it seemed to calm Eth's nerves.

Eragon was tapping a booted foot uncomfortably.

Eth's grandfather, the Shade Ieran, sat in a corner. He was relatively young, for a grandfather, and quite handsome. His hair was still the red it always had been, and his face was free of wrinkles. His bright maroon eyes watched the daughter of his late son carefully.

There were really no words to say.

Freoh – who, of the group, knew Eth the very best – sat down next to her, and brought her into his lap. She didn't seem to notice much, for she continued to rock and hum softly to herself.

"It really was in my eyes," she said, almost too softly to hear. "It is their fault." She looked at her hands, then closed her eyes very tightly.

When she opened them again, it was the next morning, and she had slept.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon hated Council Sessions. They were dull, and slow, and more often than not went around in tiny circles before arriving on a conclusion that most everyone wasn't satisfied with anyways. As Head Rider, it was mandatory he be there. However, that didn't mean he had to like it.

"The next subject to be considered," Lady Rune was saying, in that voice she had for such matters, "is the issue involving my daughter, Eth, Freoh the brother of Shadow, and the unidentified man in the Castle Gardens."

"What is there to consider?" Lord Athelion questioned. "The man is dead. Your daughter is quite alive, as is the brother of Súndavar."

Rune cringed at the name, but forced a determined look upon her face. Eragon, who watched, found himself quite in love with that look, for he knew what lay behind it.

"Yes," she said. "But we must determine whether or not to take action. You see, if this was a kidnapping attempt – which I think it may have been – we must call into question the motive of the man, and his superiors – have he any. If it was a murder attempt, there could very well be a plot against myself and the twins as well. It was too well planned for it to be an isolated event."

Caitlin had a frown upon her face. "Milady, we have no information to enable us to track this man to his origins. We don't know who he is, nor where he came from."

Saphira spoke in everyone's minds. _Then we must find such information. The people look to Lady Rune and her family as figureheads of the government._

"The Riders rule us," Lord Athelion protested. "Lady Rune is nothing but a placeholder."

"The Riders _protect_ you!" Rider David growled at him. "The people need someone to look to, someone who understands. That is the position Lady Rune is in."

Rune stood up. "Hush! Lord Athelion, Rider David, now is not a time for arguments about the necessity of a figurehead puppet queen. We all know that our decisions are made as one, for the people. I am but one of you all. I bear not the title Queen, but Lady." She closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them. "Nonetheless, if a viper was in your very home, each one of you would try to eradicate it. One of my children has been threatened – there may be more danger on the way."

Topaz, Rider David's mount, cleared her throat. _For now, _she said. _We should do nothing. We will keep on the watch. We will stay alert. But drastic measures before we know full stories will lead to nothing but heartache._

"Rider David and I will not go back to Melian," said Eragon. "We will remain here and guard the Family, and watch for more action of the type."

The Council members pursed their lips, but none argued. The decision was made.

_Are all Council Sessions boring and pointless? _Rune asked him in his mind, surprising him. _This one has awarded us time together. I am glad you do not have to leave again._

_Perhaps. _Eragon smiled at her. _It is my duty as a Rider to protect the kingdom._

_And your duty as a father to protect your children._

_It is good that, for once, those two duties do not contradict one another._

ooooooooooooooooooooo

The days after were quiet, and non-eventful. Things settled back into a normal routine, and it wasn't long before even the strange death of the mysterious man faded to the back of everyone's mind.

Even Eth began to enjoy days more – although some would have said she was thinner and frailer and far more easy to startle than before. Often she would turn away meals, and never would she meet anyone's eyes.

Luné was sitting in her the room she shared with the little girl, going about tidying it up. Although she considered herself royalty, slavery was outlawed in Alagäesia, and the servants they hired had better things to do that clean up after Lady Rune's daughters.

She picked carefully through Eth's clothes, looking for any that needed to be washed. The girl, as far as she knew, was outside, playing one of her silly games.

"Luné?"

Luné turned, surprised that she would hear Freoh's voice. It wasn't as if she didn't hear it in her mind always, but this was real.

The boy was leaning in the doorway, his black hair falling over one eye. Luné's heart fluttered – he looked so wonderful. He always looked wonderful.

"Yes?" She asked, trying to keep the flutter in her chest out of her voice.

He heard it anyways, and smiled, cocking an eyebrow. "Have you seen Eth?" he questioned.

_Of course,_ Luné muttered inwardly. _Eth._

"She's outside," she muttered, turning away and folding another article of clothing.

Freoh stepped into the room, glancing around. He picked up the little music box of Eth's, opening it and letting the ballad play for a few notes.

Then he shut it again and turned away, looking pained.

Luné frowned slightly. "Are you alright, Freoh?"

He nodded. "Fine, princess." With that, he walked out, leaving Luné staring huffily at his retreating form.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eth focused on the rock, squinting her eyes dangerously at it.

_Break,_ she urged it, _break._ Her hands were little fists, her nose all crinkled and her lips pursed into a tight line.

Freoh's footsteps broke her concentration. The rock didn't seem to notice.

"What are you doing?" he asked her. She had known it was him just by the way the air smelled, by the way his boots touched the ground lightly, like a cat. His voice sounded good to her.

She glanced up at him, blushed, and patted the ground next to her. He sat down.

"Are you pretending something?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Although I should, perhaps it would help."

"Help what?" 

Eth shrugged, picking up the rock an showing it to him. "I want to break it," she said. "If I broke that man, I should be able to break a rock, shouldn't I?" her voice was pleading.

"I suppose so."

"Because it _can't_ just be that I killed him, can it?"

"I suppose not."

"But I've been trying to break it for days, and nothing happens," Eth complained. "Maybe I really can't do it."

Freoh shrugged. "What did the rock do, that it needs to be broken?"

"Nothing, I suppose."

"Then why try to break it?"

Eth pursed her lips, then nodded. "I suppose I see your point. Perhaps…it only works when it needs to?"

Freoh shrugged again. "I don't know. Shadow would know, but Shadow's gone."

Eth snuggled up to Freoh. "Shadow. Shadow and Death. Brothers." She grinned up at him. "Let's go to the statue," she said. "And you can tell me that story again."

Freoh laughed. "Alright."

The two left the garden. The rock continued to sit.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Freoh curled up in his blankets, stifling a yawn. The day had been a long one, between telling Eth about how things would be if Shadow hadn't died – a story which changed a little with each and every telling – and chores, and lessons from Ieran, and rikan practice.

His entire body was bruised from practicing with the rikans. He had a set of them – a gift from Ieran on his thirteenth birthday – and had always been good with the weapons. He supposed that was because of his Shade blood. He could spin them and flick them and move with them like a dancer, as if there wasn't a single hard bone in his body, just liquid metal and magic and beauty. But that wasn't enough for Ieran. He wanted Freoh to be able to fight with the beautiful weapons, to be able to use them as they had been created for, back in the Dragon Elf wars when Shades would fight for either side in return for gold and blood-red stones.

But Freoh much preferred moving with them as a dance. He didn't want to learn to fight, learn to kill a man with something that he enjoyed doing. He didn't want his dance to turn deadly.

He supposed Shadow would have. Shadow would have been overjoyed to learn a new way to make himself stronger, a better fighter. He was a warrior born and bred, a Shade by right and blood and lifestyle.

Freoh was nothing but the half-blooded product of a few hours of forced pleasure from a girl too young for any of it.

Ieran had never kept it a secret about Freoh's mother. He didn't seem to mind. Rune had been more of a mother to Freoh in his initial few weeks, and then Mistress Keladry and Alanna the Elf girl. After he had come to the Castle at Ilian, Ieran had been too busy to care for him in a fatherly way. He had stayed with the other children, taken care of by Lady Caitlin and Lady Lily and sometimes Shay, if she wasn't too busy. But none of them had been particularly motherly.

Now Ieran had taken over some fatherly duties – teaching him about the world, and about the wars, and – to Freoh's dismay – about fighting. But a birthday gift every year, along with a few lessons a day for the last few months wasn't enough to make up for years of being ignored. It was no secret that Ieran would have preferred to have Súndavar than Freoh.

He had never talked to Eth about these sorts of things. The girl held Ieran in such high regards, he doubted anything he said would change her view.

The boy curled up into a ball, and felt the tears stain his cheeks. He hated Shadow for dying and leaving him all alone. Imagine, if he had a big brother. To share things with, and laugh with, to fight with and wrestle with and tell jokes with and sing with and cry with. He had Eth, and he loved Eth, loved her so very much, but she was a child. She couldn't understand him, not really.

And Luné? They had been such good friends, as children. But now, he could see her as nothing but a vain twit, caring only about herself and her looks.

Even Leon, good and kind as he was, had changed. He and Luné were just so…so royal.

Freoh glanced at his nightstand, where the closed box was. Inside, he knew, was Súndavar's dagger. He knew what Súndavar had used it for, even though no one had ever told him. Sometimes he wished he were brave enough to do the same.

A hand over his mouth made him jump, and a sudden pain in his head made him moan. Then there was nothing but gentle, forgiving sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Luné? I can't find Freoh."

Luné glanced upwards, tucking her silk hair behind one ear. Her ears were rounded, with only a tiny hint of the elven point at the very top. She looked at Eth from under her long eyelashes.

"I haven't seen him today either," she admitted. Secretly, it gave her some pleasure that the boy hadn't been in Eth's company. As far as she was concerned, he spent far too much time with a girl who was too young for his company.

"He didn't come to breakfast, and Ieran hasn't seen him," Eth murmured mournfully. "I thought maybe he was playing the hiding game we used to play, but I can't find him in any of the places, and no one has seen him since last night."

"Freoh is too old to play a silly hiding game," Luné said spitefully. "He's not a baby."

"We played it just last week," Eth said innocently. "He hid so well it took me an hour to find him. The only way I found him way because he brought snacks, and Lacey the kitchen hound smelled them and I followed her."

Luné sniffed. "Well, I haven't seen him. If I do, I'll tell you."

Eth smiled, and nodded. "Alright," she said. "Thank you, Luné."

As soon as the little raven-feather haired girl was out of earshot, Luné added, "Not."

If she saw Freoh, there was absolutely no doubt she would keep the encounter all to herself.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Leon pulled the bowstring back, aiming at the target. He let it go, and it sailed into the center.

He yawned.

"Nice shot!" Eragon congratulated. "Can you hit it from farther?"

Leon shrugged. "Maybe. I've never tried."

"Leon?"

Eragon and Leon turned to the sound. Eth stood there, looking positively frightened.

"What's wrong?" Leon asked. He stepped towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I can't find Freoh," she said, quietly. Eragon took one of her hands.

She looked into the Rider's eyes, and he didn't flinch. There was not very much that made him flinch anymore. She blinked quietly at him.

"Freoh?" Leon glanced around, then bit his lip. "Did he come to breakfast?"

Eth shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm scared. We always walk together after breakfast. We always do, Eragon. He never misses it. Ieran hasn't seen him either – he was supposed to go to rikan lessons after our walk, and then to lunch, but he wasn't there."

"What about the library?" Eragon suggested. Sometimes Freoh could be found poring over old Shade books and manuscripts, studying art forms and dancing among the shadow-rid people of old.

"He's not there either," Eth said. She seemed near tears. "Or in the Kitchens, or in the Tower where he sometimes likes to sit. He's not in the stables either."

"Maybe he went into Ilian," Eragon suggested. "That would keep him all day."

"He wouldn't go without telling me," the girl said quietly. "He promised that I could go with next time."

"What about his room?"

Eth blinked, as if she had never thought of that. It hadn't really occurred to her that Freoh had a room somewhere – she had never seen it.

"I suppose I could check," she said, blinking. "Where is it?"

"Ask Luné," Leon recommended. "If anyone knows, it's her."

"Why would she know?" Eth questioned.

Leon laughed. "She makes it a point to know such things about him. Why would she know that his favorite color is green, like Shadow's eyes, or that his favorite food is black bread dipped in melted white cheese with onion broth? She knows."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eth knocked quietly on the door, feeling her heart beating hard. If Freoh wasn't here, he was lost. She wasn't sure how she would get to sleep that night, without him there to tuck her in and kiss her forehead and wish her sweet sleep.

There was no answer behind the wood door. Eth pursed her lips, letting her fingers tighten around the door handle. She turned it gently. The door swung open easily, noiselessly.

Eth stepped gingerly into the room. It was dark, and she could see nothing that was inside. But it smelled good, sweet and boyish and clean, like Freoh's hair and neck and clothes.

"Freoh?" she asked, quietly, frightened to break the silence and solitude of this place. It was Freoh's place, and it felt like him. Quiet, gentle, loving but somehow deep and sorrowful and maybe even frightened.

Eth moved gingerly across the room, to the curtains. She pulled them apart, letting the sunlight stream in. The golden glow illuminated the room, giving light to the place Eth's guardian spent the hours when he wasn't working or practicing rikan or studying or with her.

The whole place seemed covered with treasures. Eth moved through it almost as if it was a fairy-place, not quite real. This was something of Freoh she had never ever seen before, and it awed her.

She picked up a figurine that sat on one of the many scattered tables and desks and work areas. It was a snake, wrapped around a brilliant stone. It took a moment for Eth to realize that it was made of wood, rather than flesh. She turned it over, and caught sight of the engraving on the bottom.

_To Súndavar_

_Love, Ieran_

Eth squeaked a little, setting the figure down again. _Súndavar!_ The little snake had been her father's. She touched it again, lightly, stroking the little engraved and painted scales.

Something on another desk drew her attention away from the snake. The entire desk was scattered with drawn pictures. Most depicted a boy who was about Freoh's age, and a dragon. There were pictures of the boy with the egg, pictures of the boy flying for the first time. Pictures of him and his dragon fighting enemies, pictures of him with a beautiful girl, showing her the world from dragonback.

As Eth flipped through the pictures, she came upon a great many with a new theme. Although they too depicted the boy, these pictures were of blood and gore, of lost battles and burning dragon carcasses. The dragon's skeleton, lit aflame. She felt her stomach turn over. Certainly Freoh han't rawn these? They were of brilliant quality and talent, but looking at them made Eth feel sick. She flipped one with an image of the boy making bloody marks on his wrists with a dagger over, not wanting to look at it anymore. The boy looked like Freoh.

She blinked, for on the back of the drawing, Freoh's messy scrawling handwriting had written something. She squinted at it.

_He is so sad, so scared. And angry. I wish I knew who he is, and what he has to do with me. These dreams hurt me. When he hurts, I hurt. All day today I felt the wounds he made in his wrists as if I had made them in my own. But there was nothing there, of course. I wish I could tell Eth – or anyone. But I don't think I can. He doesn't want me to._

Eth's eyes widened, and a small cry escaped her lips. She dropped the paper and darted from the room, closing the door behind her. She breathed deeply, feeling her heart pounding. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath.

Eth walked away from the room, having little more idea where Freoh was.

Or who Freoh was.

She did know one thing, however, and that was that she was not going into his room again.


	4. A Strange Darkness

Freoh struggled against the leather bands that bound his wrists, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and throbbing in his chest where he was sure a rib was broken. He tried to curse through the gag that had been stuffed in his mouth. His green eyes were wide and pained and wet with tears that he hadn't allowed himself to cry. He felt pathetic, tied up and vulnerable like a dog on a chain. He had rubbed his wrists raw from kicking and tugging and thrashing about so much.

He heard the stairs to the room he was being kept in creak with the approaching of someone. The hair on the back of his neck stood up angrily.

The door he was tied to face opened with a squeak. It was an old, rickety door on an even older, ricketier frame and hinges. A figure came through it, leading a huge, coarsely furred dog. The creature pricked its ears at Freoh, then snarled.

"Hush," the figure commanded it. It listened, quieting. The person wore a heavy cloak that concealed everything, but the voice was male – strong and young and dangerous sounding. He motioned to the dog at Freoh, and the animal moved towards him. It sniffed the prostrate boy, nosing his face, his stomach, the blood on his wrists, getting the full scent of him.

The figure kneeled beside Freoh then, pushing the dog out of the way. It slunk to a corner and curled up.

Freoh struggled again, trying to wiggle free. He couldn't help but think of Eth – poor Eth, she wouldn't know where he was. All of her daily rituals would be thrown off, all of the things she counted on would be confused and scattered and strained. He glared at the man in the room, wishing he could hate like Eth.

The hood slipped from the man's face, revealing a pair of blue eyes staring out from pale skin beneath silvery hair that hung to a pair of narrow, almost girlish shoulders. The eyes widened slightly, and a pair of thin, fair lips parted in surprise.

The boy in front of Freoh couldn't have been much different from Freoh's own age, but his features looked almost womanishly fair. He was beautiful, from the exotic silvery hair like moonlight on water, to the ocean blue eyes with feminine, curling lashes.

Almost as soon as it had fallen, he pulled the hood back up, grasped the dog, and left the room, closing the door with another loud squeak.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Luné was awoken by screaming outside her window. She got out of bed hurriedly, not bothering to throw a dress over her linen shift. After glancing at herself in the mirror, she ran from the room barefoot. The screaming continued.

She met Leon in the hall. He glanced at her as they ran.

"What's going on?" she gasped, taking the steps down to the courtyard two by two.

Leon shook his head, not knowing.

When they reached the source of the screams, both met a sight they hadn't expected. Eth stood, stricken, against the wall, screaming as tears ran down her face. She was bleeding from a scratch on her face, and several on her hands. A large dog lay at her feet.

Leon darted to her side. He clasped her shoulders tightly, drawing her to his chest. She didn't protest, sobbing into the old stained tunic he wore to bed. Luné knelt beside the dog.

She touched its chest, felt nothing, and put her hand by its nose. There was no breath in it. The girl pursed her lips.

"I didn't mean to!" Eth was crying. "I didn't! It was an accident!" Her little face was red from screaming, and her thin, frail body shivered and shook violently. "It was my eyes," she sobbed. "They did it. It is their fault, I promise."

"Hush," Leon soothed gently. He touched her face, then rubbed his hands across her small back. "It's alright. Don't wake up Rune and Eragon, then we'll catch it. It's okay."

"This isn't one of our dogs," Luné said, looking up at Leon. "It's too big. This type of dog is bred for fighting. We don't keep them." She fingered the rope around its neck, then untied it. A scrap of paper was curled around the rope.

"What's going on here?"

All three turned, startled, like children caught at something naughty. Ieran was watching them through his wine colored eyes, looking somewhat worried and quite disapproving.

Eth ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist. "My eyes did it again," she blubbered. She continued to cry.

Luné slipped the paper subtly into her sleeve, before standing up in one motion.

"The dog is dead," she confirmed. Her straight golden hair fell in front of her eyes for a moment, and she tucked it behind an ear. "It's not Eth's fault – it isn't our dog. A violent stray, or something." She glanced at Leon, and her twin nodded. He too had noticed the paper.

Ieran pulled Eth away from him and held her at arm's length.

"Let us go inside," he urged quietly. "Things will be alright. Leon, will you take care of the animal?"

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Ieran sat on Eth's bed, watching the child sleep. She moaned and muttered, caught in a bad dream. Her brow was wet and fitful.

"Eth?" he whispered, seeing if he might rouse her. He set a large hand on her shoulder.

The child whimpered as she awoke, opening her eyes and catching sight of Ieran there.

"Ieran?" she mewed. "I had a bad dream. Thank you." She sat up, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She blinked up at him, a small frown creasing her features.

Ieran was silent. He sighed, as if regretfully, and drew a hand over his face sorrowfully.

"You…" Eth looked down, at her hands. "You did not come tonight to wake me up from a nightmare, did you?"

Ieran glanced at her, then away. His eyes had a sad sort of glaze over them. "No, Eth."

Eth's eyes widened slightly. She tugged on his hand. "Ieran, why can't you look at me? Why won't you meet my eyes?"

Ieran glanced at her, his eyes meeting hers for a moment, before darting away. He was shamefaced. He could not make himself meet her eyes for more than an instant. There was fear in him, and Eth could tell. She swallowed, feeling her throat get tight and itchy, like she was going to cry.

"Ieran, what is going on?"

The man stood up, and sighed. "Eth, it is time that something is done about your…wayward gift."

Eth's lips parted a bit, then she closed them into a tight line. "I…"

"Come with me."

It was not a request, and Eth was too shocked and hurt to disobey.

Leaving the blanket around her shoulders behind, she followed Ieran out of the room. Luné had not gone to bed yet, and it was just the two of them in sight. The halls were quiet, echoing only with the sound of Ieran's boots and the patter of Eth's bare feet. Normally Eth would have reached for Ieran's hand, but now she did not.

It shocked her that Ieran could act this way. He was her rock, her steady, strong, father figure who had always been there and always would be. And now he could not even meet her eyes. He was afraid of her.

It made her want to cry, and scream, and throw a fit like she had when she was little, but she was too shocked to do anything but follow silently. Her eyes were glassy and dead, and she felt cold.

She followed Ieran through the familiar halls as if she was a stranger to them. Nothing seemed to matter. Freoh was gone, and now Ieran was lost to her. The only people who had ever really cared for her…

Eth was working up the courage to speak, when Ieran stopped in front of a door. It was the door to the library, one of Eth's very favorite places. He opened it quietly, directed her in, and then entered and closed it behind him.

Eth shivered with fear and cold and confusion.

"You are willing to do anything, aren't you?" Ieran asked, softly.

"For you," Eth answered, "I am. Why can't you look at me? Do you think you will die too, like the man and the dog?" The words came out a little bit like a hiss. "Do you think I will kill you, Ieran?"

"You cannot control what you do," he said, seemingly ashamed.

Eth tightened her hands into fists. Her eyes burned a little.

Her heart stopped beating for a moment.

_I am doing it again,_ she thought, startled and frightened. She was hating. The fear that wrapped around her heart made all the hate vanish. "Anything," she said, quickly. "Anything at all. Just do it fast, Ieran." She closed her eyes tightly. "Do it before I hate someone else."

"Anything?"

Eth nodded, keeping her eyes closed. "Anything. Even a scary thing. Is it a scary thing?"

"Only if you are terribly frightened of the dark. You aren't frightened of the dark, are you?"

Eth shook her head.

With her eyes closed, she couldn't tell what it was that Ieran did next. She only felt the warmth of his hands on her face, felt his hands sliding something over her head, and adjusting it.

When she opened her eyes, all there was was blackness.

"I can't see anything," she said, quietly.

"If you cannot see, your eyes cannot hate," Ieran returned. He touched her shoulder, and she flinched, because she had not known he was going to.

"I suppose." The blindfold was silky and comfortable, but still it was unfamiliar, and she wanted it off. "Do I have to keep it on all the time, then?"

"I will not order you to," Ieran spoke softly in her ear. "But I believe it would be best."

"How am I to do things?" she asked, "If I cannot see what I am doing?"

Ieran waited a moment before responding. To eyes that had nothing else to keep them occupied, the moment felt like an eternity. "There are plenty of people in the kingdom who are sightless," he said. "They can do things."

"But I am not sightless," Eth said, somewhat pleadingly. "I have never done things like this before."

"Could you not turn it into one of your games?"

Eth blinked, but he could not see it. She thought about it for a moment, trying to quell the fear in her chest. Then she nodded. "I suppose," she said. "I suppose I could, if I had to. But…it is not for forever, is it?"

Ieran shook his head, realized that she could not see him, and then answered, "No." He paused. "With any luck, it is not for forever."

Eth smiled. "Then I think I could bear it, being sightless. If it was not, indeed, for forever. Because the thought of never seeing Freoh's face again is simply far too much to bear. I think I would die."

"I would not want that."

"I will try, Ieran," Eth said. "It will not be easy, but I will try."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Luné sat on her bed, finishing the last seam of the dress she had been working on. She held it up to inspect it, squinting, before glancing at the girl who sat on the bed across the room.

Eth had the Shadow Ballad music box open, and was listening to it play over and over again. Luné pitied the girl – stuck alone in darkness, all of a sudden. She searched her mind for something to say.

"What is it like?" she asked, finally.

Eth's face moved her way, the equivalent of looking at her. She pondered it for a moment. "I don't really know," she said finally. "I haven't decided yet."

"Oh."

The silence settled over the two sisters like a blanket. Luné bit her lip, unsure how to go on. Eth was such a mystery to her. She had no idea what went on in that head of hers. Sometimes she wished Shadow hadn't have died – even though her mother would probably be married to him, rather than with Eragon. Rune used to tell her how Súndavar had been especially fond of her over Leon.

"So did you find Freoh?" she asked finally, although she knew the answer. No one had seen Freoh at all. And there was the little matter of the…

Eth shook her head. She closed the music box in her lap, and there was silence. She pursed her lips a little bit, before beginning to hum.

"I can't stand silence," she told Luné, pausing in her humming. "It feels very alone, when there is no sound and no light. Like I'm the only person in the world."

"I suppose it would be like, if there wasn't anything to see and keep your mind busy," Luné speculated.

"But it's different," Eth murmured. "It's like…" she sighed, then shrugged. "I don't know."

"You're so strange," Luné said fondly. "I never understand you."

"I…don't understand you either," Eth admitted.

Luné blinked. That was surprising…she couldn't see anything about her that was particularly mysterious or puzzling. "What about me?"

Eth shrugged her thin shoulders for what seemed like the tenth time. "I don't know. Mostly just…you don't care about things that matter any more."

"I care about things that matter!" Luné cried. Eth flinched at her tone. She adjusted it before speaking. "I care about Alagäesia, and the people. Those things matter."

"But you don't talk about them," Eth said. "You talk about the castle squires, and about clothes."

Luné said nothing.

"And…I suppose I cannot understand why you care so very much for Freoh when he thinks nothing of you."

The words stung, a bit, to Luné, but they hadn't been spoken in malice. Eth had simply stated the truth. But it had never been told so plainly to Luné's face.

"Does he really hate me?" she asked. Her voice wavered a tiny bit.

Eth shook her head, laughing. "No," she said simply. "Hate would be…hate would mean he felt _something_ for you. He doesn't. There is just…nothing."

Luné bit her lip. She was glad Eth couldn't see the tears that were beginning to well in her eyes.

She was trying to find something to say in reply, when she realized Eth wasn't done yet. "Sometimes I think he might," she said. "Feel something for you, that is. But it's just…sadness." She rubbed one of her eyes through the blindfold. "Sometimes he will look at you, and look…disappointed, maybe. That you've become such a twit."

"He called me that?"

Eth pursed her lips, but said nothing. There was a moment of silence, before Eth sat up and folded her legs beneath her. "You sound all chokey," she said. "I'm sorry if I've upset you."

Luné shook her head. "No," she said. It was certainly going to take some getting used to – not being able to nod and smile and wink to get her point across.

There was a light knock at the door, and Eth turned to the sound. "Is that the door?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Come in!" Eth called.

The door opened, and Leon poked his head through. He met Luné's eyes, and she read the meaning.

"It's Leon, Eth," Leon said.

Eth nodded. "Hello."

Lune stared intently at Eth, willing her to understand. "Eth…we have something to show you."

Luné took the slip of paper off the vanity, putting it in Eth's hands. The girl felt it in confusion.

Luné took it back then, and read it aloud. She didn't need to, however – she had it memorized.

"_Midnight. Fairway Tavern. Freoh."_


	5. An Unfortunate Discovery

"I don't understand," Eth said, pursing her lips.

"It was in the dog's collar," Luné said gently. She touched Eth's shoulder. "Whoever wrote it has Freoh, or knows where he is."

Eth stood up, ran into Leon, and fell back on the bed again. "Sorry," she apologized, searching this time for a place to stand before she got up. She found Luné's hand and took the paper again. She stroked it thoughtfully for a long time.

"The man in the garden was with someone," Eth said. "There were two pairs of eyes that I felt. He has Freoh. I know it."

"Maybe," Leon admitted. "But I'm worried about just tramping off to the tavern without knowing what we're getting ourselves into."

Luné sat down on the bed, and Leon followed suit. Eth tried to pace, ran into the desk, stubbed her toe on a bedpost, and finally just sat down on the floor. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"There aren't very many options," Leon said. "Either we go, or we don't. If we don't, no Freoh. If we do…"

"Anything could happen," Eth and Luné finished for him at the same time. They giggled a little at saying the same thing, then sobered when they realized what it could mean for them.

Eth wrinkled her little nose to push the blindfold up higher. She rubbed a cheek with the back of her hand. "I don't think we have an option," she said quietly.

"Freoh is…" Luné paused. "Our friend." She twisted a strand of hair around one slender finger. "We'll go to the tavern. But not all of us – Eth and I will go. Leon, you'll follow, and if anything happens, run back as fast as you can and tell Eragon and Saphira. Alright?"

Leon nodded, then amended with a firm "Alright."

Eth shivered a bit. "I am not quite sure…" she bit her lip and glanced at the ground. "Can I go out?"

"I shall help you," Luné said. She stood up and took the girl's hand, helping her to her feet. "Hold onto my arm, alright?"

Eth nodded. It was settled. All that was left was to wait for midnight.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Moons rise slowly when watched. It took ages, it seemed, before eleven struck, and it was time to leave. Luné and Eth were dressed darkly – Luné in a green dress and black cape that shrouded her shoulders, Eth in a black tunic and cloak that pulled up around her face. Eth clasped her half-sister's arm tightly.

The tavern was a dimly lit, dank place from the outside, with drips from the corners and rats that scattered when you drew near. Eth – who could not see the rats – could still feel that something was not quite right in this place.

It had taken nearly three quarters of an hour to reach this place, and now Eth felt like turning back. She squeezed Luné's arm in distress.

"I'm frightened," she whispered, so softly Luné had to strain to make out the words. "I want Freoh."

"That's what we're here for," Luné said gently. "Hush, it'll be alright."

But Eth got the distinct feeling that it would not.

Leon was following, out of sight, but neither of the girls were aware of his presence. They hoped that he could remain out of sight – if he didn't, something had gone wrong.

Luné squeezed Eth's hand, and the two stepped into the tavern. Instantly, Eth was hit with a wall of noise. She felt disoriented because of it all. She couldn't tell which way it was coming from, how to make one voice stop and another start. Everything merged and blended, making it impossible to judge her surroundings.

Luné led her to a table, and Eth groped for the chair. When she found it, she pulled it out for herself, and sat down. Her hands found the table in front of her, and she let them explore it. The grain was hard and coarse, well worn.

"You're early."

She gave a little gasp, and so did Luné beside her.

Luné looked up at a man in a heavy black cloak. She couldn't see his face, nor anything else distinguishing about him. She gripped Eth's hand under the table.

The figure – man – in the cloak sat down, sliding into the table next to them as if they had been old friends.

"You said to come at midnight," Luné explained. "We didn't want to be late."

Eth felt his gaze turn to her, even though she could not see him turn his cloaked head. He took in her blindness, and said nothing for a moment. Then he cleared his throat, raising his hand to the bar tender. "I'll have three!" he said.

The bartender nodded, and before long, three over-full mugs of brew were set in front of them. Eth touched hers tentatively, afraid of knocking it over, then pushed it away. The man laughed.

"It would seem the little…girl has no taste for strong ale."

Eth bristled. It annoyed her that her gender was hard to guess, and it infuriated her to be called little. She was small, fine boned, like her father. She was _not_ little.

She heard the man take a sip, then sigh with contentment. "This is the finest ale the world over," he told her seriously. "You can't get anything like this where I come from."

"And where is that?" Luné asked him.

He glanced at her. "In time," he said. "First, we have the matter of your friend."

"Freoh."

Eth felt her heart beat a little faster. Freoh! He _did_ know where he was.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "If you won't drink your ale, then come upstairs with me. What we have to talk about it a bit too strong for rowdy company."

Luné glanced around at the toasting, cheering, rowdy men. Until now she hadn't considered the idea that they may be being watched. She figured that the real danger came, not from around them, but from the man sitting with them at the table itself.

He stood, and they followed. Eth shuffled her feet and kept right behind Luné, trying to detect anything before she ran into it.

They walked up a pair of rickety stairs, and through an old squeaking door in an older, squeaker frame and hinges.

Eth sniffed. "Freoh?" she questioned in a whisper. The room smelled like him.

Luné's eyes were wide, but Eth couldn't see them. Curled in a corner, Freoh sat. He looked up at them with eyes like coals. His wrists were still bound, his mouth still gagged, but at the sight of the two girls we wiggled to be free.

The man who had lead them upstairs had not entered the room with them. He looked from one to the next, smiled beneath his cloak, and shut the door.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Leon tried to wriggle from the stone grip that clasped the back of his tunic. He kicked and squirmed, but nothing could free him.

"Stop moving," said the owner of the grip. "Or I will kill you."

Leon stopped. He wasn't sure if the being who gripped him would go through with this promise, but he wasn't about to test it. He wasn't short, but he found himself looking up at the being – a man, he assumed, with stupid, animalish blue eyes and close-cut sand colored hair. He had a band around his neck, like a slave might.

But slavery was outlawed. Leon didn't know what to think. And, at this point in time, he couldn't really think about it anyways. The man dragged him into the tavern.

Soon enough, he found himself with his sisters, and Freoh.

"Nice rescue."

**Author's Note: Sorry for SUCH a short chapter. :( it's awful of me, I know. I'll try to get another one up soon, but you know, school. Homework… D:**


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